


Feels Good on My Lips

by phdmama



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: American AU, Famous Louis, Getting Together, Harry is living his best life, High School Reunion AU, History of Bullying Mentioned, Hooking up, It's set in VT also, M/M, Movie Star Louis, Non-Famous Harry, This Was Supposed to Be Short and Funny and Sexy, Veternarian Harry, Way More Feelings Than Necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 10:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/pseuds/phdmama
Summary: When Niall harasses Harry into returning to Vermont for their fifteenth high school reunion, Harry is really not sure he wants to go. High School wasn't the most fun for him, but when it turns out that Louis Tomlinson, his former best friend and current star of the silver screen is going to be there, Harry agrees. The road to reunion is never easy.





	Feels Good on My Lips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lululawrence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lululawrence/gifts).

> For my dearest Sus. I love you, darling. So much. I hope you know. xox
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply! I don't own any of these characters. This is a work of fiction, meant only to entertain. Please don’t break the 4th wall or post anywhere else, and please do not post it for review on Goodreads! 
> 
> Please note I have taken some liberties because the actual Field Days I'm referencing happens in early August, and Bracelet Day is on Friday.
> 
> Very loosely inspired by _[Felt Good on My Lips](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bo0KKJ8QEz0)_ by Tim McGraw.
> 
> As always, the words, as well as the errors, are mine.

**** **LATE JUNE **

Harry Styles is not sure which, specifically, of his life choices has led to this moment — at his fifteenth high school reunion, on his knees in the janitor’s closet, about to blow Louis Tomlinson, leading scorer of the state champion soccer team, his childhood best friend and the cause of his sexual awakening at thirteen, not mention current star of the silver screen — but he gives thanks for it all the same.

**6 MONTHS EARLIER**

“No.”

Harry sticks his head out from behind the shower curtain to glare at Niall, who is sitting on the closed lid of the toilet in their postage-stamp-sized bathroom, with Clancy on his lap and a smug look on his stupid face.

“You have to,” Niall says with an unconcerned shrug. “I already RSVP’d.”

“Well,” Harry replies, ducking back under the weak spray, cursing the water pressure as he does just about every morning, “You’ll have to un-RSVP. I’m not going.”

Niall gives a theatrical gasp and brings his hand to his heart. “I can’t believe you would say such a thing, my pet. You can’t un-RSVP, it’s like a….” he pauses to give Clancy a full body rub that has the fluffy cat sinking even further into his lap and purring so loudly that Harry can hear him even with the shower running. “It’s a sacred trust.” Niall stands up and dumps Clancy to the floor. “You’ve given your word, and your word, Harry, is your bond.” Niall frowns into the mirror and pokes at his eyebrows.

“But,” Harry feels compelled to point out, “I didn’t give my word, you gave it for me.”

“No matter,” Niall says and plops back onto the toilet. “We’re going. I said yes, so that’s all there is to it.”

“I don’t want to,” Harry sulks, rinsing the soap from his hair. “Maybe I’m busy.”

At that, Niall laughs, and leans over to pull open the door and shout, “Liam!”

“What?” Harry asks, squirting his favorite spicy body wash onto his purple pouf, “Why are you…What is Li...”

“Yeah?” Liam’s cheerful voice comes from outside the door and Niall quickly pulls his feet up as the door swings all the way in and Liam crowds into the bathroom.

“Liam,” Harry says, “Niall. What are you guys doing? I’m showering, I’m naked in here.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope so,” Liam says, squeezing past Niall to shut the door behind him and lean against the sink. “I’d worry about you if you were showering in your jammies.” He turns to Niall. “My mom has the funniest home video of me, I was like, not even two, and she found me in her bathroom, in the shower, fully clothed.”

Niall laughs and Harry gently bangs his head against the tiled wall. What is even happening here. He feels confused, unsure. Like he’s lost the plot entirely. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. He finishes scrubbing himself down and then rinses the pouf, before hanging it back on his showerhead caddy. 

“Harry here thinks he’s not going to our reunion,” Niall says, “So I’m just letting him know, he has to. I already said yes. RSVP.”

Liam nods, picks up Harry’s deodorant and takes a sniff. “I like this, where do you get this?”

“From that lady on Etsy,” Harry says, turning off the water and accepting the towel Niall has passed to Liam. 

He wraps the warm fabric around his body and gives thanks, again, for Niall’s insistence that they buy that heated towel rack on overstock.com. Their Somerville apartment is drafty on a good day, and in winter, the heat seems leached out directly from the radiator and it’s always chilly. He and Niall have talked about moving more than once, especially now that the Beloved Menagerie is out of the red, but the result of that is that they’re both so busy, Harry’s not sure when they’d even find time to go apartment hunting. In any case, he loves their quirky little apartment, just outside of Union Square. He can walk to the grocery store and work, and that’s all he really needs. 

“Anyway,” Harry says, getting back to the business at hand. “I just don’t understand the point. We’re all already friends on Facebook, most of us. Perrie snaps me every day. Shawn likes every single thing I post on Instagram. I don’t think fifteen years is long enough.”

“Shawn likes everything everyone posts,” Niall says, just a bit grumpily and Harry lowers the t-shirt he’s been using to dry his hair and stares at him. “What? He does.” 

“Hmm.” Harry ponders this and sighs. “You keep distracting me.”

“I think you’ve got that covered all by yourself,” Liam points out. He pulls a toothbrush out of the medicine cabinet and squirts some toothpaste on it.

“Liam,” Harry says in despair, “You don’t even live here. Why do you have a toothbrush here?”

Liam shrugs and says around the mouthful of foam he’s sporting, “Never know when you’re going to want to freshen up.”

“Besides,” Niall adds with a sly grin, “You’re not friends with _ everyone _ on Facebook.”

Harry stares at him in confusion and then herds everyone out of the tiny bathroom into the narrow hallway. 

“Liam, can you get coffee going? Niall, I’m swinging into the dry cleaner’s on the way to work, you need me to drop anything off? What do you mean, not friends with everyone?” Harry moves into his bedroom, towel wrapped precariously around his waist, and starts to rummage in his dresser for clean scrubs. 

“Oh, you know who I’m talking about, don’t you?” Niall gives a small grin from the doorway. Harry frowns, and then it hits him.

_ Louis. Louis Tomlinson. _

He sighs, rolls his eyes at Niall and says only, “I’m over that, Niall,” and shuts the door in Niall’s face.

He’s still sulking by the time he gets to work, fifteen minutes later than he’d planned, but in plenty of time to get prepped for his first surgery, a total run-of-the-mill neutering of an absolutely gorgeous Maine Coon Cat who’s the size of a small bear, named Moonpie.

Cara, the tech who runs the desk for the morning shift smiles as he hurries in.

“Hey, Harry, how’s it going? Moonpie’s all settled in.”

Harry thinks her words are definitely optimistic as he hears the annoyed meowing as he walks back into the ward where Moonpie fixes him with a baleful eye and then turns his back as Harry reaches through the bars to give him a scritch.

He pauses at the workstation to pull up his email and frowns. There’s an email from Helen, who’s the office manager, with the title “Time Off Approved!! (IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU TOOK A VACATION HARRY THAT’S ALL I’M SAYING).”

He opens it and sighs at the content.

_ Hey Harry! Just wanted to let you know your request for the week of June― is approved! I really appreciate your getting it in so early, and we’ll make sure there are no surgeries scheduled that week. Have a GREAT time at your reunion! _

The word _ great _ is in large purple letters that she’s somehow made glitter and Harry can’t figure out how she’s done it.

He pulls out his phone and texts Niall.

_ TIME OFF REQUEST GRANTED? _

He wishes he could make the letters glittery, maybe in a puce or something, just to really convey his disapproval.

Niall texts back.

_ Whoo-hoo! Smart of you to get your request in early! _

Harry replies.

_ How’d you get into my email? _

Niall replies only with the thumbs up emoji and then refuses to answer any more texts.

**3 MONTHS EARLIER**

“Have you figured out what you’re going to wear?” Niall asks as he sets the wooden salad bowl on their battered kitchen table. 

Harry wonders, not for the first time, when he’s going to start feeling like a grown-up. He has friends who have things like dining rooms and matching furniture and end tables with lamps on them, not to mention children, and he wonders how that happens. Well, he knows how the babies get made, but the matching furniture feels far beyond his capabilities.

“To what?” he asks. 

He looks down at the sweatpants and ratty t-shirt he’s wearing, which had seemed perfectly fine for their bi-weekly Roommate Dinner and Grub Out on the Couch Night. Niall is dressed similarly, and he’s wearing a Yankees t-shirt to boot, so it can’t be Harry’s _ Veterinarians Do It With Animals _ shirt that’s the problem.

“To reunion,” Niall says, sliding into his seat and Harry sighs.

“I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

“Harry,” says Niall after a pause, “Do you really not want to go? Why?”

Harry slides into his own seat and pours them each a glass of wine before spooning out some rice and saag paneer. 

“I just, I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like everyone we went to high school with just has their shit together, you know?” Niall bursts out laughing and Harry adds, “Well, it sure looks that way on Facebook. And like, you know. Tim is probably going to be there.”

“Tim’s a prick, Harry,” Niall says gently, “You were always better than that. And no one tells the truth on Facebook. Or at least, they tell a version of the truth that makes them look good. Besides, everyone thinks you’re a total success. You live out of state. You own your own business. You’re a doctor.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “No one thinks vets are real doctors.”

Niall rolls his eyes right back. “Anyone who knows anything knows you’re a real doctor. Is this the whole married with kids thing?”

Harry shrugs, trying to put the feeling into words. “Not really. Like, I don’t even know if I want kids, and I don’t want them now. But sometimes it feels like I’m behind, you know? Everyone’s getting married, and turning into, like adults, and here we are, drinking wine out of Captain Marvel juice glasses.”

Niall smiles and takes a sip of wine. “Harry, you love Captain Marvel. And you love these glasses. You’re not behind because it isn’t a race. Anyway, we really need to figure out what you’re going to wear, so you can snag Louis' attention.”

“Niall,” Harry gasps. “I’m not even. What?”

“Oh come on,” Niall scoff. “You were super close when you guys were little. And then you totally had the hots for him when he was sixteen with adolescent skin and those weird little chin hairs. You’re telling me that you’re not still thinking about it, now that he’s. You know.”

Harry pauses a moment and agrees that Louis Tomlinson really is, _ you know. _ Like that. He’d been one of those kids in high school who was so successful, you almost wanted to hate him, but you couldn’t because he was so nice, always volunteering to run food drives and tutoring freshmen afterschool. And, unlike a lot of those kids, he hadn’t peaked at 17, instead going off to the West Coast for college, and somehow stumbling into a movie career that ran the gamut from passionately acted indie films to his latest, the biggest action blockbuster of last year.

He and Harry had been close when they were young, best friends even, but in the way of small towns, they’d been sorted into different groups and hadn’t stayed close, much to Harry’s regret. In any case, he’d always felt like Louis had been out of his league. Which sucked because Harry hadn’t just had the hots for him. He’d been in love with him since he was thirteen. Now that they’re adults, he’s let that go, of course, but the history of it still stings.

One of Harry’s most treasured memories from high school was of Louis driving by in his beat-up, classic VW bug and splashing icy slush all over him, and immediately pulling over to apologize, dry him off with the towel he’d had handy in the back seat, and driving him the rest of the way home.

Harry reluctantly returns to the present moment. “Yeah, Nialler, and everyone else thinking about him like that too.” 

The thing is, Louis Tomlinson is proud of his roots as a Vermonter and is often seen back in Middlebury, hanging out at the local brewpub, getting bagels at the bakery downtown, and just generally being a real person who also happens to be a famous movie star. Harry knows he bought his mom a gorgeous house out in Weybridge, and that he spends as much time there when he’s not working as he does out in LA. 

“I dunno,” Niall says. “He’s not linked with anyone now, hasn’t been for a while, and he always liked you in high school.”

“Oh my god,” Harry says in horror, drinking a larger-than-advisable gulp of wine. He coughs and drinks again. “He never did.”

“So says you,” Niall says, “But I think you’re wrong. He used to hang out when you were at track practice, all senior spring.”

“Wasn’t he dating Kate?” Harry feels compelled to ask, even as he remembers noticing how Louis was always in the stands, goofing off with his buddies, while they ran sprints.

“Nah,” Niall says. “She told me, they let people think they were dating because she wasn’t ready to be out, but they were just good friends. Remember, when they broke up, and people were like, it’s so weird, nothing’s changed, they still hang out and whatever.”

“And then she came out,” Harry remembers. She’d been the first in their class to come out, but not the last.

“Anyway,” Niall says impatiently, “He’s definitely going to reunion, and he’s single. Maybe it’s a longshot, but you need to look your best. I’ve already booked us for a spa day at Lotus the week before. They’ll get…” he waves a hand to indicate Harry’s face, “All that sorted, but we should go shopping this weekend. Unless you’re going to start working out?”

He looks interested, as if it might be an actual possibility that Harry will become a gym rat and suddenly get real buff in time for reunion.

“No,” Harry says morosely. “I’m not going to work out any more than I already do.”

Not even the prospect of a day at his favorite spa can compensate for the experience of shopping with Niall. He loves Niall, he really and truly does, they’ve been best friends since their days in the 3s class at the cooperative nursery school in East Middlebury, but shopping with Niall is often an exercise in anxiety. He tends to dither, which combined with Harry’s difficulty in focusing, leads to frustration.

“Are you sure,” Harry asks cautiously, “That us shopping together is a good idea?”

Niall waves off his concern. “We’re bringing Liam. He’ll keep us in line. Anyway, he needs an outfit too.”

“Why?” Harry can’t help but ask. “Why does Liam need an outfit?”

Niall stares at him. “Because he’s coming with us, Harry. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Niall,” Harry says on an exhale, “No, you didn’t, Why is Liam coming to our high school reunion? He didn’t go to high school with us.”

“He’s coming as moral support,” Niall says with a nod. “Besides, he wants to spend the weekend in VT. We’re going to Field Days too. He’s super excited about the demolition derby.”

Harry tries to picture Liam Payne, of the Concord Paynes, at a truck pull in rural Vermont and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, okay, I can swing some time for shopping on Sunday,” he says and Niall nods.

**1 WEEK BEFORE**

Harry sinks into the mud bath with a sigh. Okay, maybe going to his high school reunion won’t be so bad, if he gets a spa day out it. He's got a nice glass of wine and a little plate of cheese tartlets. He's about to be plucked and massaged within an inch of his life. It’s all going to be fine.

**THE DAY OF**

It’s not going to be fine. It’s going to be whatever the opposite of fine is. Harry can’t even think of what the word might be. What even are words? Maybe he’s had a stroke. He should probably get to the hospital.

All spa-induced euphoria has fled, leaving Harry lying face down on the double bed in what used to be his sister’s childhood bedroom. With both of them out of the house, his mom has turned Harry’s old room into her yoga and workout room, and Gemma’s room is now a pleasant guest room, “perfectly comfortable for you and a friend, if you ever wanted to bring anyone home, Harry.”

Harry is pretty sure his mom has read a lot of “how to not pressure your adult kids into giving you grandchildren” articles, but sometimes she just can’t help herself.

“This is going to suck,” he moans into the pillow and feels the bed sink as Gemma collapses next to him.

“Yeah, it is,” she says. “Glad I’m not going.”

Harry rolls onto his side to face as her as inspiration strikes. “You should totally come! Pretty sure everyone in my class liked you a lot more than they liked me.”

He can still remember Hilde Monroe, the gym teacher’s daughter, saying to him “Why can’t you be cool like your sister?”

“Nah.” Gemma runs a hand through his hair. “Besides, I’ve got a date.”

Harry frowns. “A date? Here? Anyone I know?” Gemma lives in Southern California now and has been known to offer long and spontaneous soliloquies about how much she loves the weather, and how she’ll never move back to Vermont.

Gemma laughs. “Actually, he’s from LA, but he’s Louis Tomlinson’ PA. We met at an event a few months ago, and we’ve been… testing the waters. He mentioned he was going to be traveling out here with Louis, since he’s never been to VT, and I offered to… show him the sights.” 

She gives a wicked grin and Harry groans again. “It’s not fair,” he says. “I can’t even meet weird guys on the internet and you’ve got a date at my high school reunion.”

Gemma laughs and ruffles his hair. “It’s going to suck, no lie, baby brother. But the afterparty’ll be great. I’ll see you there.” She rolls off the bed and lands on her feet. 

Deciding who stays in the guest room and who sleeps on the pull-out couch in the yoga room is a topic for vigorous debate any time they’re both in town, but Harry had won this round by dint of claiming he needed his beauty rest for reunion and Gemma had folded like a bad poker hand.

He wanders into the bathroom that connects the upstairs bedrooms. Out the window, he can see the light on in Niall’s bathroom, and smiles, picturing him getting ready. Liam is staying over there, and Harry has to grin at the memory of his excitement for Field Days. Tomorrow is bracelet day, and they’re going to ride all the rides, all day, or until one of them pukes.

He just has to get through tonight.

The reunion is being held at the school, reminiscent of Senior Prom, except the booze is legal. They’ve got cocktails starting at five, then a buffet dinner and some dancing. According to Niall, the afterparty is going to move to the downstairs tavern at the Inn in town, where somebody’s band is playing, which sounds like hell on earth to Harry, but at least it’s not karaoke. In any case, Liam’s gonna love it. 

He showers and shaves, taking extra care with his moisturizing. He frowns into the mirror and plucks at an errant grey hair that’s curling wildly up out of the top of his head. He’s quite sure it wasn’t there yesterday and he has no idea how the damn thing has grown so quickly. He slaps on some deodorant and heads back out to where he’s laid out the outfit Niall has picked out for him.

He wiggles into his favorite rainbow stripe Thunderpants and adjusts himself. Sure, no one’s going to be seeing them, but he’ll know they’re there, and they always make him feel just a bit sexier, a bit more fun, than he thinks he actually is.

He’s got fitted skinny black jeans, a black shirt with daisies on it, and his new... He stares at the pile of clothes on the bed and then rummages frantically through his suitcase. His new dress shoes. His very expensive, funky new Fluevogs, that pick up the accents of green and pink in his shirt perfectly. He has a vision of them sitting in the middle of his bed at home and groans, grabbing his phone.

Harry: NIALL IT’S AN EMERGENCY

The phone rings and Harry picks up.

“What is it?” Niall sounds anxious and Harry feels a pang of guilt at worrying his old friend. “Something with the clinic? Did Jules call?”

“Oh god, no. I’m sorry,” Harry says quickly. “No, it’s a shoe emergency.”

There’s a long-enough silence that Harry checks to make sure the call hasn’t disconnected.

“A shoe emergency?” Niall says cautiously. 

“My new shoes, I left them home.”

“The Fluevogs? No,” Niall groans sympathetically. “They’re so cute.”

“I know,” Harry says frantically, glad that Niall is taking this seriously. “What am I going to do? All I have are my chucks.”

Niall’s shrug is communicated clearly even though Harry can’t see him. “Wear those. They’ll look vintage. That’s cute too. I gotta go, Harry, sorry. Liam and I are doing pedicures.”

Harry hangs up the phone and pouts for a moment. He likes pedicures too, damn it. He whirls around as his mother simultaneously knocks and enters the room, thankful he at least has his pants on.

“Mom, I might have been naked! You need to give me a 5-second grace period.”

She shrugs and sits on the edge of the bed.

“No grace period from your mom. Not like I haven’t seen it before, darling. Anyway, why were you pouting?”

“I wasn’t—” He gives up with a sigh. “Niall’s doing pedicures with Liam. He got some new Birkenstocks.”

“Aww,” his mother’s smile is warm and she pulls Harry down to sit on the bed next to her. “Are you feeling left out?”

Harry leans into her, basking in the familiar weight of her arm around his shoulders, the warmth of her body, and the scent of her perfume — the same thing she’s worn since her own college days, he knows. He knows how lucky he is, that no matter what’s going on in his life, he always has this to come home to. 

“Nah, not really,” he admits. “Just… you know. Anxious about tonight.”

“Why?” his mother asks, genuine surprise in her voice. “Harry, it’s all the same people you’ve known forever.”

“That’s why.” Harry shrugs, then sits up and reaches for his black undershirt. He yanks it over his head and then shakes out the daisy shirt, but before he can put it on, his mother sighs, stands up and grabs it.

“I’ll iron that,” she says, walking over to the ironing board set up in the corner. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not that I was bullied, exactly,” Harry says cautiously, not sure he’s actually telling the truth. “It’s just. High school’s not an easy time, and even if I’m Facebook friends with all these people, it’s not like we’re actually still close. I guess I’m worried I’m still going to be Unstylish Styles, you know? Or Nerd Bear.”

His mother hands him the freshly-ironed shirt and sits again. “Nerd Bear? I don’t remember that one.”

“It was just a stupid thing the jocks used to call me.” Harry shrugs and pulls on the shirt, buttoning it carefully.

“Like, one of my friends used to call me Hair-Bear, like a play on Care Bear? And because my hair was so. You know.”

His mom nods. “Was that Agatha?”

Harry smiles at the memory. “Yeah, she’s going to be there tonight, thank god.” He checks his hair in the mirror, smooths back an errant curl. “I mean, I hope those guys have grown up a bit at least. But I guess I’m still just a bit nervous.”

“And,” his mother observes with a sly grin, “Louis Tomlinson will be there tonight.”

“Mom.” Harry feels the flush rise over his cheeks. “What? I mean, yeah, I heard he’s going to be there. But. You know.” He rolls his eyes, not even fooling himself. “I don’t know. He probably doesn’t remember me.”

“Oh, he does,” his mother says and Harry stares at her.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I was out with Karen and Paula the other night, we were sitting out on the deck at Jackson’s, and he was there with his mom and one of his sisters, and he stopped by the table and asked about you.”

“Mom,” Harry hisses, giving up on his hair, “My god, Mom. You can’t just tell me that _ now_. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly, I forgot all about it.” His mom shrugs. “Paula was telling us the current scandal at the college and it just slipped my mind.”

“Well,” Harry says impatiently, “What did he say?”

His mom laughs. “He said, ‘Hey Miz Styles,” and I said, ‘Louis Tomlinson, don’t you think you should be calling me Anne by now?’ and he said, ‘I couldn’t possibly’ and then he said, ‘How’s Harry doing?’”

“What did you say?”

She rolls her eyes. “I said, ‘Harry’s doing great, he’ll be here in a couple of weeks for reunion.’ And he just smiled and said, ‘Great, I’ll catch up with him then.’”

Harry is already pulling out his phone to call Niall. He’s forgotten about the pedicures until the phone goes straight to voicemail.

“Niall, this is an emergency. You have to call me back. Louis asked my mom about me and she forgot to tell me,” he pauses to glare at his mother who is still on the bed, laughing at his pain, “and I forgot my new shoes and I think I’m panicking so call me back.”

His mom has risen to her feet and she heads out of the room, she pauses and then looks at him. “Harry, Louis Tomlinson would be lucky to have you as a friend or anything else.”

Harry snorts cynically and his mother stops him with a shake of her head. “I know you think I’m biased, and I am because you’re my baby, no matter how old you get, but remember. People have a choice in how they behave, and you have only ever been one of the kindest, most caring people I’ve had the privilege to know. You were a wonderful boy who’s grown up to be a wonderful man, even if you do drink wine out of Captain Marvel juice glasses.”

“I love those glasses,” Harry protests with a laugh, and then smiles at his mom. “Okay, fine. I’m a catch, high school assholes are in the past, and we’ll see what happens tonight.”

His phone rings and he answers it as his mother heads back downstairs.

“Hey Niall, yeah. I think I’m okay actually.”

**1 HOUR IN**

Harry’s feeling pretty good. So far, he’s had half of his first mediocre glass of wine, two chicken skewers, and several hugs from people that he’s surprised are this excited to see him. Hilde had squealed and come clattering around the sign-in table on sky-high heels to squeeze him into a perfumed hug, and Duncan had clapped him on the back in a most manly fashion while shaking his hand vigorously enough that Harry wonders if he’s going to be running for office. 

He, Niall and Liam had stuck together for a bit, but then Harry had lost them in the rush on the cheese table, and now he’s chatting with Hilde and Megan, and keeping an eye on the door for some people he’d actually really like to see. 

About five minutes later, he sees flame-red hair and Agatha strides through the door and immediately makes a beeline for him. She grabs him and says, “Sorry ladies, gotta go,” and drags him off to the bar. 

“Harry,” she says, “I’m so mad at you.”

“What?” Harry says in surprise, “What did I do?” 

He hasn’t seen Agatha in about six months, when she’d been passing through Somerville on her way to Montana or Africa or something. He can’t keep track of where she is, she’s always moving around. 

“I sent you that text about coming out to LA two months ago and you never replied.”

She takes a sip of her wine, makes a face, slams back the glass, and signals the bartender for another.

Harry frowns. “I don’t think I got it,” he says. “I mean, I’ve been pretty busy with the clinic and all, so I don’t know about coming out to LA. Are you on a dig out there?”

She laughs, shakes out her curls and hands him a fresh drink. 

“Nah, I’m talking with some folks at HGTV about doing a paleontology show, you know? And I was at this party, and Louis was there, and we got to talking, and we were both like, Harry needs to come to LA right now, so I texted you.”

She pulls out her phone and frowns as she scrolls through her message history with Harry. “Huh. It’s not there. I wonder who I texted?”

They both laugh and Harry pulls her in for a hug, trying to ignore the information that Louis Tomlinson has been talking about him on both sides of the country.

The room is starting to fill up now, and the buzz of conversation is loud enough that Harry has to lean in close to Agatha to hear what she’s saying, when he hears a voice behind him say, “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Unstylish Styles.”

He straightens up and feeling somewhat frozen, turns to face the man standing behind him. 

“Hey, Tim.”

“Harry Styles. What up, nerd bear?” Tim says loudly and then gives a loud cackle of laughter that draws the attention of the others standing around them.

“Not much,” Harry says. “You?”

“Oh, you know.” Tim offers another loud bray of laughter. “Living the dream, my man. Living the dream.” He takes a long sip of his beer and raises it in a toast to Harry that feels. Mocking somehow. “How about you? I heard you’re a nurse or something? Still single? Me and Tammi got married, you know.”

Harry sighs, feeling diminished somehow. “That’s great. And no, I’m not a nurse actually. I’m a vet. I have a clinic with Niall.”

“Oh, cool,” says Tim, utterly disinterested. “So, got a lady or…” he eyes Harry’s brightly printed shirt for a moment, “you know, whatever?”

And suddenly, Harry is sick of it. He’s sick of worrying about what people think of his daisy print shirt—he knows it looks great. He’s sick of worrying that these people from his past are judging him. He’s sick of feeling anxious and when he looks Tim over, he can’t quite remember why he was so intimidated in the first place. Tim’s half-way to drunk and the red of his face suggests this isn’t an unusual occurrence.

Something about the way Harry’s shoulders roll back causes that smug look to drop from Tim’s face and Harry says firmly, “No, no boyfriend at the moment. That’s what you were trying to insinuate, wasn’t it? Honestly,” and he laughs, a genuine laugh as he feels Agatha’s hand press to the small of his back, “Honestly, Tim, did you think it was a secret?” He gestures to the crowd. “Did anyone _ not _ know I’m gay?”

He scoffs, drinks again, and feels a surge of power. He remembers feeling so scared in high school, so anxious, but now. He sees Niall and Liam, over by the cheese table, standing with Shawn, and Niall’s face is blindingly proud as he watches Harry. Liam has his lips pressed together and is clearly holding himself back from punching Tim in the face, and Harry feels the strength of Liam’s support in his bones.

“You know, Tim,” Harry says finally. “You made me pretty miserable in high school. Remember in freshman year, when you threatened to shove me into table saw in shop? Remember when you told the entire football team to target me in dodgeball for the entire stupid unit? Remember,” and here his voice goes icy. “Remember when you threatened to out me junior year?” 

It’s like a stone tossed into the water; silence ripples out, and he can see the shock on the faces of men and women watching, and they _are_ men and women now, children no longer. Tim’s face closes down somehow, he radiates sullen shame.

“What the fuck,” he says. “Man, you never could take a joke, nerd bear.”

And it’s clear suddenly.

“Don’t call me that,” Harry says sternly. “You haven’t earned that.” He starts to turn, and then glances back, “Oh, hey, Tim? I hope you’re happy. You and Tammi. Managing the store. I really do. Because you know what? I am. I’m really happy.”

Tim’s face goes white, and Harry turns away, and comes face to face with—

“Hi, Harry,” Louis says, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

**2 HOURS IN**

Louis shines, the way he always did, and like always, Harry sort of wants to hate him for it, but can’t. Instead, he’s drawn to Louis’ light, the way he always was. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since he’s seen Louis, doesn’t matter that they’ve only had three (no, four, Harry clearly recalls every single one) conversations in the last fifteen years, that invisible tie that Harry always thought he was only dreaming, that tie is still there.

He thinks Louis feels it too. They’ve not had time to talk, Louis was immediately swept away by the soccer team, but every time Harry looks over at him, he catches Louis’ eye, and realizes, Louis is looking at him too.

He doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

Finally, the excitement around Louis’ appearance settles, and he makes his way over to where Harry is standing with Liam, Niall, and Shawn, who hasn’t left Niall’s side. In fact, Harry is just noting that Shawn is standing awfully close to Niall when Louis moves into their little group.

“Louis,” Niall says happily and pulls Louis into a hug. “Hey man, how’s it going. Saw the latest flick, good stuff.” Somehow Niall makes it just a factual comment, not at all fatuous or fawning and Louis smiles, a real smile, Harry can tell.

Louis’ wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and battered work boots, and he looks both like an All-American cliche and like a good ole VT boy. He’s ridiculously handsome, Harry thinks, and so familiar all at once.

“Thanks,” Louis is saying to Niall. “Glad you liked it. Hey Shawnie, how’s it going, man. I was wondering if I could steal your boy away for a bit, get a chance to catch up.”

With a thrill, Harry realizes the boy in question is _ him_. He nods, accepts Niall’s good-natured “Have him home by midnight, Louis,” and grins at Louis’ laughing “yes sir” with accompanied salute, and then Louis’ hand is on the small of his back and he’s guiding him away from the crowd, and out into the hallway and further into the building. 

It smells the same, but the whole building feels so much smaller as they wander out of the gym, through the cafeteria and down the hushed corridors past the library, the noise of the reunion falling away behind them as they walk.

“So,” Louis says finally, pausing to lean against the locker and it’s strange, Harry’s so familiar with his face from the big screen, and his memories of teenage Louis, but now those images blur in his mind, then coalesce into this person standing in front of him, both familiar and unknown.

“So,” Harry says. His heart is pounding and he can feel the grin on his face as he and Louis look at each other, really _ look _ at each other, and he wonders who Louis sees before him. “How’ve you been, Louis?”

Louis laughs. “I’ve been good, Harry. Really good. Always thought I’d run into you more around town, you know?”

Harry glances away, suddenly feeling shy. “I’ve been pretty busy with the clinic and all.”

“Yeah, I think it’s amazing,” Louis says. “That you and Niall have your own hospital.” He takes a step closer, almost close enough for Harry to feel the heat of his body. “You were always, like, the most caring person I knew. So it makes sense you take care of animals. Remember when you turned up in my kitchen with that huge garter snake? We were what, five?”

“Oh my god,” Harry laughs. “I’d forgotten that.”

“Why’d we stop being friends?” Louis says abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve always wondered, you know?”

“We didn’t stop being friends,” Harry says slowly, feeling confused. “We just. We were really different, Louis. You were so popular, everything seemed to come more easily to you. And I was,” he shrugs, “Nerd bear. You know? We drifted. And,” he can’t help adding, “I mean, it’s not like you missed a whole lot.”

Louis makes a face at him and suddenly Harry is flooded with memories: building sandcastles at the Lake, hanging upside down from the monkey bars, those collecting walks in Means Woods where they’d come home with rocks to wash and leaves to press in wax paper and the occasional toad. And Louis making that face at him, that fond, exasperated face that says “Yeah maybe you’re an idiot but you’re my idiot,” and he remembers how fiercely he'd loved Louis in the way that children do, and how that had changed.

“Seventh grade,” he says quietly, and Louis just looks at him. “Right before seventh grade started, remember when you got onto the JV soccer team? And then Kaitlyn decided she liked you?”

Louis nods. 

Harry sighs. “I just. We were so close, Louis, and I realized that summer that I…” He looks away, not sure why decades-old emotions feel so close to the surface. “I realized that I liked you. Like, so much.”

Louis is still not moving, hands still shoved in his pockets, eyes narrowed a bit as he looks at Harry. “I liked you too, Harry.”

“No, Louis. I _ liked you _ liked you.” Harry can’t meet his eyes, feels himself flushing. “Like that was the summer I figured it out.”

“Harry,” Louis moves in now, even closer. “Harry, I _ liked you _ liked you too.”

Harry lets out a bark of laughter. “Bullshit, you did not.”

“I did,” Louis insists, laughing a bit too. “I really did. And when you pulled away, I just. Man, I was sort of crushed.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Louis, I was 13, that was right at the beginning of my awkward phase, and we all know that lasted years. And you, it’s like you never went through that. I mean, other than that beard junior year.”

Louis just shakes his head and then his hand grazes Harry’s. “You were my best friend, Harry. And then it was like, even though you still lived right down the street, it’s like you were gone. And I know, I got caught up in soccer and music and all those things, but I still. I always missed you, and I just never knew how to reach out. You might think I had it all together, but I really didn’t. I think I just hid it better.”

His fingers intertwine with Harry’s and it’s like there’s a spark as their palms connect, and Harry shivers.

“And then,” Louis says, “When I saw Agatha at that party, it was like a sign or something. And she mentioned something very interesting.”

“Oh really?” Harry says, his voice a bit shaky as Louis’ thumb traces circles over his palm. “What did she say?”

“She said she thought you’d always been hung up on me the whole time. We were,” Louis admits with a laugh, “A little drunk, and she was talking about how much she adores you.”

“It’s mutual,” Harry says.

Louis smiles. “Yeah. And then I said, well, something embarrassing about you being the one who got away, and she was like, ‘You should just get on a plane to Boston,’ and I almost did, you know? But I had all that promo stuff and whatever.”

“Wait, what are you saying?” Harry asks. “Are you saying you’re… interested? Now?”

Louis moves infinitesimally closer and now Harry can genuinely feel the heat of his body, the brush of the denim over his thighs. He’s not imagining this, not imagining the way Louis’ eyes drop to his lips then raise back up to meet his own.

“Harry,” Louis breathes, “I’ve always been interested,” and then he kisses him.

He kisses Harry right there in the hallway by Harry’s 8th-grade locker, a hallway that smells of old socks and pine-scented cleaner. He kisses Harry like he’s found something precious. Like he might never stop. 

He does stop, of course, but he doesn’t move very far away, both of them gasping and Harry feeling, well, more turned on than seems usual, given it’s just one kiss. _ The first, _ Harry thinks suddenly. _ It’s only the first. _

“Harry, I…” but what Louis wants to say halted as they hear voices in the hallway and then an unfamiliar person moves into sight, and Harry sees the large, professional-looking camera the person is carrying and Louis curses and pulls Harry into motion.

“Fucking paps,” Louis mutters as he heads down the hallway. 

He’s looking a bit frantic and a lot pissed, and somehow that’s even more arousing to Harry than the soft and gentle Louis that’s just disappeared. He’s not sure where Louis thinks he’s going; this hallway deadends and Harry’s pretty sure the rest of the school is locked away and off-limits, so he’s unsurprised when Louis rattles the door to the stairs and it’s unyielding.

Louis looks around and then says “Oh my god, of course,” and crosses the hallway to yank open an unassuming door and shove Harry into a small dark room that is, from the even stronger scent of Pine-sol, the janitor’s closet. It’s very dark and very close quarters as Louis jams in, pulling the door closed behind him, plunging them into complete darkness.

“I’m not embarrassed,” Louis whispers and Harry jumps at the feel of Louis’ breath on his cheek. He’s closer than Harry expected. “I just don’t want pap pictures of me kissing my high school crush to come until I know my crush is going to be willing to give me a chance.”

“He is,” Harry says breathlessly and reaches out in the dark to pull Louis even closer, so their bodies are aligned. “He’s definitely going to give you a chance. He would have given you a chance years ago if he’d known. If he hadn’t been so stupid.”

Louis’ lips are so close that Harry can feel them moving as Louis says, “Harry, you’ve never been stupid. Oblivious maybe, but not stup—” and Harry kisses him.

Unlike that kiss in the hall that had been gentle and sweet, almost nostalgic, this isn’t a kiss about the past or regrets or missed chances. This kiss is heat and power and magic right here and right now, and Harry pulls Louis even closer. Someone groans, someone whispers _ Fuck_, and Harry knows what he wants, right here, and right now. 

He skates his hand over the growing bulge in Louis’ skinny jeans and feels Louis shudder. 

“Harry,” Louis gasps, even as he leans into Harry’s touch, “Fuck, we don’t have to.” He stills as they hear voices outside the closet. “I don’t expect.”

“Wonder where he went?” Harry hears the man say outside. “Fuck, that guy said there might be good pics.”

“I know you don’t,” Harry whispers and even through the door. they can hear the voice still muttering as the photographer moves back down the hallway. “But I want to.”

“I don’t just want. You know. Right now,” Louis sucks in an audible breath as Harry drops to his knees on the tile floor. 

“Great,” Harry says, pressing his face to Louis’ belly for a moment. This feels right, it feels so right. “Me either, but can we talk more in a few minutes? I want to blow you right now.”

“A few minutes?” Louis snorts, anchoring his hands in Harry’s hair. “You may be overestimating me, pal. Not sure this is going to take that long.” 

Even in the dark, Harry can hear the wicked grin in his own voice as he says, “This time, Lou. Go as fast as you want. We'll have time to take it slow later,” and he gets to work.

He eases Louis’ zipper down over his impressive erection, yanking his jeans down to his thighs, which are shaking under Harry’s touch. He feels sexy and so powerful at the way Louis is coming undone under his fingers. Louis leans back against the door, and Harry pulls down his underwear, wishing he could see just a bit, and then he leans in.

He first wraps his hand around Louis’ cock, which feels impressive, and then wraps his lips around the tip and Louis gives a strangled cry. 

Harry hears the thump of his head hitting the door and whispers, “You gotta be quiet, Lou, can’t let that photographer hear,” and swallows him down.

He hasn’t hooked up with anyone in a while, but this feels different. It’s not just some random guy, this is _ Louis_, and the reality of the man in front of him is so much better than any fantasy Harry’s had.

Louis is clearly holding himself back, so as Harry works him over with his mouth, he shifts his hands to Louis’ hips and encourages him to move. Louis tastes of soap and skin and healthy sweat and Harry is having the time of his life. 

He isn’t quite sure which of his choices has led to this moment — agreeing to come to reunion, wearing his new daisy-print shirt, or finally standing up to his childhood bully — but he gives thanks for them all as he hears Louis’ breathing speed up and then Louis whispers frantically “Harry, I’m going to… Oh god, _ fuck_. You’re making me. I’m gonna come, Harry. _ Harry, _” and he comes down Harry’s throat. 

Harry swallows, pulls off and presses his head to Louis’ hip as he wipes his mouth and listens to the rasp of Louis’ breathing in the silence of the dark closet. 

He’s hard, so hard, but it’s okay to wait. There’s no urgency in this moment. It feels fragile and new, and he’s almost beginning to feel awkward when Louis hauls him to his feet and kisses him frantically and all awkwardness is gone as Louis talks between kisses.

“Fuck, that was amazing, Harry, god, you’ve got to let me…” He kisses Harry again and yanks Harry’s pants open, shoving his hand in between them. “Can I? I know this is out of order, I want to take you out, I want…”

Louis mimics Harry from earlier, drops to his knees and frees Harry’s achingly hard cock from his gorgeous rainbow Thunderpants (which Harry thinks momentarily he’ll have to show Louis later because they really are fun), and swallows Harry down.

Harry would be embarrassed at how quickly he finishes if he weren’t feeling so smug, and luckily, there’s no mess to either of their outfits to worry about. They stand up and get their clothing rearranged, but just as Harry reaches to open the door, Louis pauses him with a hand on his arm.

“I meant it, Harry.”

“Meant what?” Harry says, still a little dazed from the force of his orgasm and the way things in his life have changed tonight.

“I meant it that I was always interested, and I really do want to see where this goes. I know we’ve got a lot to catch up, and I can’t wait to hear everything. If that’s…” suddenly Louis’ voice is achingly vulnerable. “If you’d like that?”

“Louis,” and his name is so, so sweet on Harry’s lips, “I’d love that.”

“Well then,” Louis says as he opens the door and ushers Harry back out into the hallway, “Let’s get started.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and it would be utterly inspiring for me if you enjoyed this enough to leave a comment or kudos!
> 
> Feel free to [come say hi on Tumblr!](http://phd-mama.tumblr.com/) If you enjoyed this, the rest of my stuff can be [found here!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/works)
> 
> And, it would me a lot to me if you shared the [rebloggable post](https://phd-mama.tumblr.com/post/187151986878/feels-good-on-my-lips) on Tumblr! xox


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